Chapter XIII

Awaking from my slumber
I hear the skylark sing;
The rosy morning greets me,
The fresh young day of Spring.

In the garden waves the palm-tree
Mysteriously its crown,
And on the distant sea-shore
The surf rolls up and down;

And azure-blue the heavens,
The golden sun so bright;
My heart, what more is wanting?
Chime in with all thy might!

And now pour out thy praises
To God, who oft gave proof,
He never would forsake thee--
'Tis thou who kept aloof.